Road to Heaven
Chapter Three
Frank looked for Joe at a few more places, but having no luck, returned home. He and his mother barely touched the lunch she had prepared as they waited for Joe to get home. After lunch, Frank went outside to mow the lawn. He was half-way finished when his mother came to the back door and called him.
"Con just phoned," she told him. "He wants you to meet him at the old Tucker place off Highway Nine." She looked worried as Frank stopped the mower and came to the house. "He said it had something to do with earlier," she said. "What happened earlier?"
Frank kissed her forehead. "Con's in charge of a new investigation," he told her with a calmness he didn't feel. "He probably wants mine and Joe's input."
Frank got into his and Joe's van and drove out to the old Tucker place. He pulled to a stop beside one of the police cruisers present and got out. He saw Con speaking with another officer and walked over. "What's up?" Frank asked Con.
Con looked over at Frank. "Have you heard from Joe?" he asked, an anxious look on his face.
"Not yet," Frank responded. "Why?"
Con didn't reply. Instead, he lifted up a plastic bag and handed it to Frank. Frank looked at the contents, a Swiss Army Knife with the initials JH carved into it's handle. "It's Joe's," Frank said quietly, looking back up at Con.
"The van was stolen early this morning," Con told Frank. "It was seen near the alley at the time of the murder," he added softly, placing a comforting hand on Frank's shoulder.
"But why?" Frank asked in confusion. "Why would he kill..."
"Doug Testerman," Con supplied Frank with the victim's name.
"Why kill Testerman and leave his body but take Joe?" Frank asked. "It doesn't make sense." He shook his head. "What do you have so far?" he demanded, looking into Con's concerned blue eyes.
"No leads on our killer but we've got a long rap sheet on the victim," Con told him. "Come on down to headquarters and I'll get you a copy. When's your dad due back?"
"I don't know," Frank replied, running a hand through his hair nervously. "Yesterday when I talked to him he said he would be out of touch until he wrapped up the case he was on."
Less than an hour later, Frank was at the police station looking at Testerman's rap sheet. "Busted eight times for pushing but never made it to trial," Frank said in disgust, looking up from the the sheet of paper in his hand. "Why not?"
"His lawyer kept getting him off on technicallities," Con informed Frank. "Testerman probably tried to rip off his backers and they took him down."
"Maybe not," Frank said, a theory emerging. "Someone like that would have killed Joe outright," he argued. "Maybe whoever killed Testerman was settling a score because he felt justice hadn't been served."
"If that's the case, we've got a long list of suspects," Con said with a frown.
"Can you get a list?" Frank asked, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.
Con nodded. "It may take some time," he added. "Go home. Whoever took Joe may call with a ransom demand." Frank started to argue but Con headed him off. "All you have is a theory," he reminded Frank. "Joe could have been the target and Testerman just ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Realizing Con had a point, Frank left after making Con promise to get back to him with the list of possible suspects.
Joe had finally given up trying to get out of his bonds and sat staring glumly at the wall in front of him. He had no idea how long he had been in the basement, but his stomach gave a loud groan of desire when the door opened and the aroma of spaghetti floated into his nostrils. He heard the stairs creak as Kenny came down them carrying a tray with a glass of milk, a plate of spaghetti and two slices of mozzarella covered garlic bread in a saucer on the side.
Joe's stomach growled again as Kenny set the tray beside Joe with a smile. "I thought you might be getting hungry." He reached over to remove the tape but paused and looked Joe in the eyes. "You scream and you go hungry," he warned. Joe nodded his understanding and Kenny pulled the tape off.
As he fed Joe, Kenny told him how his son had died from an overdose and about the men who were responsible had gotten off. "So you're giving them your own brand of justice?" Joe asked, after he swallowed the last bite of garlic bread.
"Yeah," Kenny agreed, picking up the almost empty glass of milk and letting Joe finish it.
"It's still murder," Joe told him. "You're going to get caught."
"I don't care," Kenny replied. "After the men responsible for Craig's death are dead then I'll let you go. You can turn me in. It won't matter anymore," he gazed at Joe with the saddest green eyes Joe had ever seen.
Joe felt sorry for the man but he still had to be stopped. "How long do you think you'll have to keep me here?" he asked.
"Testerman was the second one," Kenny responded. "There are two more and then you can leave. Shouldn't take longer than a week," he said thoughtfully.
"My family will be out of their minds by then," Joe protested. "They're probably already worried sick."
Kenny frowned, realizing Joe was right. "Tell you what," he said, feeling sympathy with Joe's parents. "I'll let you talk to your family, but," he stressed the word, "if you say anything about what I'm up to or even breathe about where you are, then I'll take you somewhere else and leave you. Got it?" Joe nodded.
Kenny put a piece of tape over Joe's mouth and went back upstairs. He was back in a couple of minutes with a cell phone. Taking the tape back off of Joe's mouth, he asked for the number.
"555-8264," Joe replied and waited while Kenny punched in the number and put the phone up to his ear.
"Hello," Frank's worried voice came through before the first ring had finished.
"Frank," Joe said, looking at Kenny. "I'm okay."
"Where are you?" Frank demanded loud enough for Kenny to hear. "I've been looking for you all day. So are the police," he added.
Joe saw Kenny stiffen. "Tell them not to," he said quickly. "I'm fine and... and I'll be home in about a week."
"Where are you? What's going on?" Frank demanded.
"I'm not allowed to say," Joe told him. "But I'm okay, really. He doesn't want to hurt me. Look, I'll be home in time for the trip we planned with Biff," he added, throwing Frank a clue to his whereabouts. "Just don't worry. I love you and tell mom and dad I love them and I'll see them soon."
"Joe," Frank said into the receiver, but it was too late. They had been disconnected.
Chapter Three
Frank looked for Joe at a few more places, but having no luck, returned home. He and his mother barely touched the lunch she had prepared as they waited for Joe to get home. After lunch, Frank went outside to mow the lawn. He was half-way finished when his mother came to the back door and called him.
"Con just phoned," she told him. "He wants you to meet him at the old Tucker place off Highway Nine." She looked worried as Frank stopped the mower and came to the house. "He said it had something to do with earlier," she said. "What happened earlier?"
Frank kissed her forehead. "Con's in charge of a new investigation," he told her with a calmness he didn't feel. "He probably wants mine and Joe's input."
Frank got into his and Joe's van and drove out to the old Tucker place. He pulled to a stop beside one of the police cruisers present and got out. He saw Con speaking with another officer and walked over. "What's up?" Frank asked Con.
Con looked over at Frank. "Have you heard from Joe?" he asked, an anxious look on his face.
"Not yet," Frank responded. "Why?"
Con didn't reply. Instead, he lifted up a plastic bag and handed it to Frank. Frank looked at the contents, a Swiss Army Knife with the initials JH carved into it's handle. "It's Joe's," Frank said quietly, looking back up at Con.
"The van was stolen early this morning," Con told Frank. "It was seen near the alley at the time of the murder," he added softly, placing a comforting hand on Frank's shoulder.
"But why?" Frank asked in confusion. "Why would he kill..."
"Doug Testerman," Con supplied Frank with the victim's name.
"Why kill Testerman and leave his body but take Joe?" Frank asked. "It doesn't make sense." He shook his head. "What do you have so far?" he demanded, looking into Con's concerned blue eyes.
"No leads on our killer but we've got a long rap sheet on the victim," Con told him. "Come on down to headquarters and I'll get you a copy. When's your dad due back?"
"I don't know," Frank replied, running a hand through his hair nervously. "Yesterday when I talked to him he said he would be out of touch until he wrapped up the case he was on."
Less than an hour later, Frank was at the police station looking at Testerman's rap sheet. "Busted eight times for pushing but never made it to trial," Frank said in disgust, looking up from the the sheet of paper in his hand. "Why not?"
"His lawyer kept getting him off on technicallities," Con informed Frank. "Testerman probably tried to rip off his backers and they took him down."
"Maybe not," Frank said, a theory emerging. "Someone like that would have killed Joe outright," he argued. "Maybe whoever killed Testerman was settling a score because he felt justice hadn't been served."
"If that's the case, we've got a long list of suspects," Con said with a frown.
"Can you get a list?" Frank asked, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.
Con nodded. "It may take some time," he added. "Go home. Whoever took Joe may call with a ransom demand." Frank started to argue but Con headed him off. "All you have is a theory," he reminded Frank. "Joe could have been the target and Testerman just ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Realizing Con had a point, Frank left after making Con promise to get back to him with the list of possible suspects.
Joe had finally given up trying to get out of his bonds and sat staring glumly at the wall in front of him. He had no idea how long he had been in the basement, but his stomach gave a loud groan of desire when the door opened and the aroma of spaghetti floated into his nostrils. He heard the stairs creak as Kenny came down them carrying a tray with a glass of milk, a plate of spaghetti and two slices of mozzarella covered garlic bread in a saucer on the side.
Joe's stomach growled again as Kenny set the tray beside Joe with a smile. "I thought you might be getting hungry." He reached over to remove the tape but paused and looked Joe in the eyes. "You scream and you go hungry," he warned. Joe nodded his understanding and Kenny pulled the tape off.
As he fed Joe, Kenny told him how his son had died from an overdose and about the men who were responsible had gotten off. "So you're giving them your own brand of justice?" Joe asked, after he swallowed the last bite of garlic bread.
"Yeah," Kenny agreed, picking up the almost empty glass of milk and letting Joe finish it.
"It's still murder," Joe told him. "You're going to get caught."
"I don't care," Kenny replied. "After the men responsible for Craig's death are dead then I'll let you go. You can turn me in. It won't matter anymore," he gazed at Joe with the saddest green eyes Joe had ever seen.
Joe felt sorry for the man but he still had to be stopped. "How long do you think you'll have to keep me here?" he asked.
"Testerman was the second one," Kenny responded. "There are two more and then you can leave. Shouldn't take longer than a week," he said thoughtfully.
"My family will be out of their minds by then," Joe protested. "They're probably already worried sick."
Kenny frowned, realizing Joe was right. "Tell you what," he said, feeling sympathy with Joe's parents. "I'll let you talk to your family, but," he stressed the word, "if you say anything about what I'm up to or even breathe about where you are, then I'll take you somewhere else and leave you. Got it?" Joe nodded.
Kenny put a piece of tape over Joe's mouth and went back upstairs. He was back in a couple of minutes with a cell phone. Taking the tape back off of Joe's mouth, he asked for the number.
"555-8264," Joe replied and waited while Kenny punched in the number and put the phone up to his ear.
"Hello," Frank's worried voice came through before the first ring had finished.
"Frank," Joe said, looking at Kenny. "I'm okay."
"Where are you?" Frank demanded loud enough for Kenny to hear. "I've been looking for you all day. So are the police," he added.
Joe saw Kenny stiffen. "Tell them not to," he said quickly. "I'm fine and... and I'll be home in about a week."
"Where are you? What's going on?" Frank demanded.
"I'm not allowed to say," Joe told him. "But I'm okay, really. He doesn't want to hurt me. Look, I'll be home in time for the trip we planned with Biff," he added, throwing Frank a clue to his whereabouts. "Just don't worry. I love you and tell mom and dad I love them and I'll see them soon."
"Joe," Frank said into the receiver, but it was too late. They had been disconnected.